No Title
by Terri Freedom
Summary: I suck at summaries, so I'm not even going to try... just read and find out! An AU romance, centering around Murtagh and his troubles. M/N, T/S, E/A, E/M, maybe other pairings. Warning: Slash and incest themes, suicide themes, adult themes. M for safety.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inheritance in any way, shape, or form. I'm borrowing some characters and places from Paolini. And a little plot, perhaps. That's his. But that's also all that's his. Mostly it's mine! ;)

So, like I said, this is a Murtagh fic. Because he's the best. Anyways, it's mostly the main ships. Sorry, slash fans. M/E is my favourite pairing, don't get me wrong. It's just that the base of the story is Murtagh's relationship with Nasuada. The story even sorta follows the Inheritance books. For example, when Murtagh gets taken away... but you'll see that later, if you keep on reading.

Critique is welcome. All out flaming is not. Critique is, "Oh, you missed a comma there". Flaming is, "ZOMG, this story totally sucks". See the difference? One's helpful. The other's idiotic.

**Warning:** This story is rated M. This is for safety. There are adult themes(aka talk of and suggested sex, but I doubt it'll be descriptive), swearing and other offensive language, stalkers, suicide attempts, and criminal acts. There are male-male pairings and implications. Heck, there might be female-female pairings, I don't really know where I'm going with this. Basically, slash and incest themes. Anyways, if any of these things make you feel uncomfortable, uneasy, or disgusted, please do not read the story. Thank you.

And now, the first part of the unnamed story, which I hope you enjoy.

**Begin story here.**

"Hey, Murtagh. Saphy invited me to this fancy Christmas party at the Vardens'. You dig?"

That was all it started as. Murtagh had no idea what he was agreeing to when he said, "Sure. Sounds wicked. But do I gotta rent a suit?"

Thorn shrugged. "I dunno. You could probably go to their house and ask 'em if it's that fancy. They live on Farthen Avenue, halfway up Beor Mountain. Hey, y'know if you split up the word 'Farthen,' it says 'Fart hen?'"

Murtagh let out a small "huh". "Farthen Avenue, eh? Pretty expensive place. The Vardens must be bathing in money."

"Or seriously in debt," Thorn pointed out as shifted his position slightly on his chair.

Murtagh sighed and leaned back into the armrest. "So's this on Christmas Day or Eve or what?"

Thorn shrugged again, then sat up eagerly. "Hey, if you're not gonna eat your burger, can I have it?"

"Sure." Murtagh slid his Whopper over to his best friend, who picked it up greedily and shoved half of it in his mouth.

He eyed Thorn's hands oddly. "Are you wearing nail-polish? _Pink_ nail-polish?"

Thorn put the Whopper back down on the table and examined his fingernails. After he swallowed he said, "Yeah. To go with my hair, y'know. Do you think gays'd find it sexy? I'm in the mood for men right now."

Murtagh thought about his bisexual friend, considering. "Well, some gay guys'd probably go for the nails, sure, but the Mohawk… I think you should change it. Girls'll go for it 'cause they'll think it's punk, but guys'll be put off by it. Make it spikes. And blonde or brown. Maybe even red or orange. Not pink, though."

Thorn nodded thoughtfully. "I'll dye it when we get home. Probably brown. Isn't my natural colour a kind of burgundy? Red would clash with the polish, though."

"Man, you've dyed your hair so many times, your mother doesn't even know what you're natural colour is." Thorn had taken beauty school and had become a hair stylist. He liked to practice on himself with different styles and dyes. Murtagh thought he was insane, but Thorn reasoned that he was just being Thorn.

"Hey, you know, if you really wanna pick up a guy, Thorn, why don't you go to a gay club? There's one down on Gil'ead Road, I think. Looked like your kinda place. Hell, it _sounded_ like your kinda place. Lots of separate rooms in the back. Could hear moans from miles away."

"I don't have clothes to go clubbing, Murtagh. In case you haven't noticed, they're not cheap."

Murtagh leaned over the table and lowered his voice. "So then we'll steal 'em. No biggie. Clothes are super-easy. Even when they have those scanner things on 'em."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, that's how I got my sexy shirt. Didn't you know that?"

"Um, yeah, I was with you when you did. Don't you remember? I even brought the scissors like you asked."

Murtagh leaned back. "I know. Thanks, man. But it wasn't worth it. I mean, I still haven't picked up a chick."

Thorn examined his best friend. "Well, you're not the 'Hey, look at my sexy chest. Let me rip my shirt off for you' kinda guy… usually… You're more of a dark, mysterious kinda guy, who dresses in all black and a cape and has a rose in his mouth and dances and flirts and everyone can't decide if he's a hero or villain. So sexy shirts and tight pants do not work for you. Well, maybe tight pants, but not _too_ tight, y'know?"

Murtagh slouched a bit more. "So what's your advice, O Gallant Hair Dresser That Owes Me Rent Money?"

Thorn winced. "Well, my advice is that you is that you get dark clothes and go for a bit of an 'Emo' look, but not too Emo. Definitely no makeup, you don't want to look Goth. Just dark and secretive. Longer hair would look more mysterious. And I'll pay you rent as soon as I get a temporary job."

Murtagh rose, walking calmly over to the counter. There was a young woman chewing gum and examining her hands wearily at the cash register. Murtagh leaned on the counter and waited until she looked up at him.

"Would you like to order something?" she said impatiently.

Murtagh shook his head. "No, I was wondering if you had a spot open… my friend wants a job."

She rolled her eyes. "No, we don't have a job opening, so unless you're going to order something or ask me out, you can leave."

Murtagh looked her up and down. He grinned. "No, thanks. I don't date stuck-up pigs."

She gasped at him as he walked briskly back to Thorn and said, "C'mon, man. Let's blow this popsicle stand."

Thorn smirked as he shoved the rest of the Whopper into his mouth and bounced out of his seat. Somehow, as they exited the building, he managed to get out, "Actually, this is a Burger King."


End file.
